


Inked

by hit_the_books



Series: Blood and Gold [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Multi, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Reader-Insert, Smut, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 10:34:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3933499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/hit_the_books
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This part takes place between season 9 episodes "Captives" and “Thinman”.</p><p>You're an alchemist, perhaps one of the most gifted of this age. Living with Sam and Dean in the Bunker for several months, the three of you have built a tenuous relationship together. Now you’ve almost found all of your soul, it’s time to finish putting you back together.</p><p>But will it really be that simple?</p><p>Read on to find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dry Lands

The night was like ice: unforgivingly cold, the heavens above clear and dusted with stars. Harriet shivered in her fleece lined jacket as she tried to slowly and silently pick her way through this corner of the New Mexico desert, hoping that the bastards hadn’t sensed her yet. Her machete was stowed in its holder on her right thigh. Ready, waiting, like each one of her senses that was straining for contact, desperate for a sign that she was on the right track.

Little clouds of dust rose from each step she took, covering her cowboy boots. Harriet could see the brittle remains of the ghost town on the moonlit horizon. The wooden structures just silhouettes in what little light there was. What little wildlife there would be normally was disturbingly silent. And then the air shifted, changing direction, and Harriet knew she was on the right track. Her ten years of experience as a hunter told her what that smell was.

Carrion. Fleshy scraps. The ruin of flesh.

Crouching now, Harriet crept towards a boulder and held herself close to it. Her eyes strained into the gloom and her ears teased past her own breathing as she tried to observe where her quarry had bedded down in the remains of the town. Then she saw them.

Two figures, silhouetted by the moon’s light, carrying a third that was wriggling between them, desperate to get away. She felt at the pull of the sawn-off shotgun she had laying against her back in a custom holster. But she knew there was more than two in the party and if she made herself known now, she’d just be leaving herself open to attack.

But as the terrified, prone human between the two ghouls squirmed, desperate to get away, Harriet knew she had to step in and help now. Quietly pulling her sawn-off shotgun out and hefting it into her left hand, Harriet carefully pulled her machete into her right hand and began circling the moonlit figures.

She kicked a stone towards them and the shock of the sound caused the pair of ghouls, wearing the visages of their latest victims - two tourists Harriet had tried to warn away - to drop the human they had been carrying. As the human landed with a thud, a man Harriet thought, and continued to struggle against his bonds, Harriet swept in, cleaving the head of one ghoul clean off with the machete while blasting the skull of the other with the sawn-off shotgun.

Before any more ghouls could show up, Harriet swiftly went to the man still struggling with his bonds and cut him free of the ropes.

“Tha-nks,” the man gasped, clearly in pain.

“Come on, we need to get you somewhere safe,” Harriet said, stowing her machete and helping the man off of the floor.

“Rich... by... the way,” Rich said as he leaned against Harriet. Harriet could feel the sticky wetness of a wound bleeding through Rich’s shirt.

“Harriet. Look, is there anyone from your group left. How many ghouls?”

“I’m… the last… and what… those things?”

“Yeah, ghouls, how many more?”

“Three,” rasped Rich as they tried to head back in the direction of Harriet’s SUV.

“Okay. You’re doing good.”

Supporting Rich’s weight, Harriet’s ears strained for any sounds of company, any at all. Harriet thought they were going to make it, as she saw the SUV’s bulk in the distance, and then she heard the sound of shifting pebbles and she only turned in time to blast off the head of another ghoul. ‘Two left,’ Harriet thought to herself as she and rich reached her SUV.

All thoughts of patching Rich up completely left Harriet as she dropped him and pulled out her machete, but she wasn’t fast enough. The ghoul bowled her over and went straight for Rich. Harriet held back bile as she heard the sound of Rich’s jugular being ripped and blood spattering the side of her vehicle.

It was just her and two ghouls. Harriet rolled to her feet and looked at their menacing forms in the darkness. There was no way she was going to be able to get into the SUV and start it before the ghouls smashed through the glass. She needed to run now and run fast, find an advantage point to fight from.

Harriet took in one huge breath and bolted. Ran towards the remains of the town, a cloud of dirt rising up behind her as her feet and legs fought to carry her away from the ghouls as fast as they possibly damn well could. The moon lit her way and kept her speeding form visible. She heard a faint scrabbling behind her as the ghouls tried to figure out whether to pursue another kill, a kill they were aware would not be getting away from them any time soon.

Running past the ghost town’s cemetery, Harriet sprinted towards the remaining buildings and headed for the biggest and most stable looking. Reflexively, she barred the door around her and took in her surroundings through the moon’s limited light that filtered through the ruined and slatted windows. The wooden flooring creaked under her boots. It must have been a general store at some point, though the goods that remained were ruined and mouldering.

Looking around for somewhere to hide and replan, Harriet saw an open doorway that appeared to lead down to a cellar. Opening the door fully, she allowed her eyes to adjust to the deeper gloom. The steps down into the cellar looked solid enough. Harriet stepped through the doorway and barred it behind her, and allowed the darkness to swallow her up. She pulled out her cell and figured it was better to ask for some back-up than not, now that things had gone so wrong.

Letting the cell’s limited glow light the rest of her way down the stairs, Harriet reached the dirt floor in one piece and began searching through her contacts. She flicked past several old numbers for Bobby, knowing he was dead and gone, but tried to find one for the Winchesters. Bobby had said years ago to call them if he was no more. Harriet didn’t know who else she could call, as she hit dial and crooked the phone between her right shoulder and the side of her head so that she could start reloading her sawn-off shotgun.

These last few years, being a hunter had become an even more isolated experience as the old guard succumbed to injuries or age, and the new generations had lost Ellen’s bar. The old network was just not what it use to be.

The sound of the other end ringing went on agonizingly long, and when Harriet finally heard the sound of someone picking up, she breathed a sigh of relief as she asked, “Hey, is this the Winchesters?”


	2. Snaking Light

You lean back against the leather of the Impala’s front seat. Dean is driving now, having taken over from Sam some three hundred miles back. The pair of them had been taking it in turns to drive as you pointed out where to go, following the tendrils of your soul that only you could see. Now that you’d acquired a few more fragments of your soul, the strands of light weren’t just tied to the Philosopher's Stone that hung down from your neck, but also your physical being. There was a map open in your lap and you kept consulting it along with the strings of light shining from you so that you could correct the Impala’s course as needed.

Since finding that first part of your soul in the Bunker’s library, you’d tracked another piece hovering over a crossroads near Pueblo, Colorado and another to a field in the middle of nowhere in the south west of Oklahoma. There were at least six more fragments to go, if the tendrils drifting out of your chest were anything to go by.

There was an excitement bubbling away under Sam and Dean’s calm exteriors. You can tell that the two of them are glad that something is going their way for once. It wasn’t a hunt, just a road trip and they were putting you back together. You breathe in deeply and swoon slightly from their combined scents of books, oil, spinach, bourbon and need.

Fingers, Sam’s, brush against the back of your neck, delightfully cool against your slightly flushed skin. Sam is leaning towards you from the back seat and, if his fingers are anything to go by, he’s feeling more like he wants to be around you. For a moment, you hazily recall how your absent soul had caused him to pull away, but now as he and Dean help to make you whole, Sam has been increasingly showing signs of affection, stealing little moments with you whenever you stopped for a break.

But you’re trying to concentrate on the tendril you’re all following and as Sam’s fingers tease your skin, you can feel yourself growing irate. And so you try calmly to tell Sam to ease off for the moment.

“Sam, do you mind, please… I need to focus.”

You turn to Sam and give him a pleading smile. He looks back with slightly hurt puppy dog eyes and you wish you could let him continue, but as you skirt through Alamogordo, New Mexico, you really need to concentrate on where the tendril is taking you. You plead with your eyes, giving Sam your own puppy dog look.

“Fine,” Sam replies, holding his hands up in submission. You give him another smile and turn your attention back to the road in front of you and the map.

You hear the buzzing before Dean feels it. “Uh, Dean, I think you’ve got a call,” you say as you try to focus on the road ahead.

“Sammy,” Dean says gruffly, pulling the cell out of his jacket pocket and handing it over the back of the seat to Sam.

“Dean, take the next left,” you say, ignoring the conversation Sam is entering into. Dean slows the Impala and takes the next left and without saying anything, reaches his right hand across the space between you and touches your left knee. You look up at him as he sneaks a glance at you before focusing completely on the road once more.

“Hold-up, where are you?!” You look back at Sam and notice that he’s scribbling away in a small notebook he must have pulled from one of his jacket pockets. “Yeah, we’re about three hours away… U-huh… Well if you want to hide out in there until we come that’s fine. Okay. Call us if anything changes, but we’ll be there as quick as we can. Okay...” Sam hangs up and leans over the back of the front seat, poking his head between you and Dean.

“We need to head to Steins,” Sam says, reaching a hand over the seat and poking at the mpa in your lap.

“What’s in Steins?” You ask.

“Hunter, by the name of Harriet Reynolds. Sounds like she’s been penned in by a bunch of ghouls… Look, I know we’re meant to be, y’know, but we’re close and it sounds like she could do with the help,” Sam replies and starts to rub the back of your neck again.

“It’s fine, I’m sure I can wait a little longer.”

“Dean?” Sam turns to his brother.

“Sounds good to me. We do still help people.”

You start clambering, carefully over the front seat of the Impala.

“Hey! Watch the leather!” Dean cries in semi-anguish.

“It’s fine!” You chide as you pull your chest out from under the back seat and place it top of the seat, away from Sam. You slide your right hand over the intricately carved wood and the lid pops open. You sense Sam leaning in to take a look over your shoulder at what’s inside.

Ignoring Sam, you start pulling out the ingredients for knockout powder and notice that you’ll need more lavender soon.

“What are you doing?” Sam asks, his voice slightly anxious. A part of you bristles at his concern, annoyed that he thinks you still can’t be trusted to do what you’ve been trained to do.

“I’m not mixing up something that’ll torture someone, if that’s what you’re worried about, Sam,” you reply, hiding none of your annoyance from your voice.

“I wasn’t -”

“You are. I’m trying to mix up some knockout powder. Extra strong, mind, to use on the ghouls if things get bad… Dean, make sure you don’t hit any potholes or you’re both liable to pass out.”

“Aye-aye, mam,” Dean replies, trying to ease some of the tension.

“Have you still got some gas masks in the trunk?” You ask as you cradle a mortar and pestle between your thighs.

“Should do,” Dean replies when Sam doesn’t.

“Cool, you’ll want those.” You shift your body so that you can more easily look at Sam.

“Y/N,” Sam starts saying.

“I’m not evil, Sam. Thanks,” you whisper at Sam, “I’m more like myself now than I have been for a month. So, y’know, could you start trusting me a bit more, please?”

Sam leans his head down on your left shoulder as you begin to pulverise the lavender in the mortar. “Okay,” replies and then kisses the underside of your chin. You feel yourself begin to blush, but you don’t say anything, as you try to concentrate on what you’re putting together. You don’t want Dean to pass out and crash the car, after all.


	3. Urges

Running his right hand through his hair to pull a few strands out of his face, Sam looked over at Y/N and felt a small lump of guilt rise up in his throat. He hadn’t meant to make her feel bad, he’d only wanted to voice his concern, but he was now beginning to realise what it must have been like for Dean, all those years ago, hearing him say he was off of the demon blood and then not believing him. But Y/N had been around him and Dean non-stop for the past forty-eight hours and hadn’t seemed any different, even after trips to the loo by herself.

But Sam was finding it difficult to believe that Y/N wasn’t using again. They’d been under a lot of stress. Still, as he watched Y/N at work, he realised that he still didn’t truly know what Y/N was like as a person. If Crowley’s assessment after their stint in Las Vegas was anything to go by, she’d been in the process of losing her soul before Dean and him had found her in that cabin all those months ago.

“Is there anything I can help with?” Sam asked, his throat feeling slightly dry. Y/N dropped the pestle into the mortar, holding both still with her thighs, and began rummaging in her alchemy chest. She pulled out a swatch of paper-like fabric and a length of ribbon, and finally a pair of scissors.

“Sure,” Y/N said as she piled the items on Sam’s lap, “could you cut me about ten squares,” she put her hands up and made a square with her fingers, “yay big by yay big. Then, once you’ve done that,” she held her two index fingers apart, “ten lengths of ribbon so long.”

“Okay,” Sam replied taking up the pair of scissors. Y/N said nothing more as she turned her attention back to the alchemical ingredients she was working with.

Sam began to cut into the fabric as he’d been directed. “Like this?” He asked, holding up a new square of fabric for Y/N to see. She looked over at the square.

“Yep,” Y/N replied and gave Sam a small smile before turning back to her own work. Sam felt his stomach do a tiny flip, the smile on Y/N’s face had been that adorable and… He concentrated back on the fabric and the scissors.

*

The squares and ribbon were done. It had been ten minutes since Dean had asked Sam to look up Steins on his cell. It wasn’t like they were heading to a place filled with flowers, candy and puppies.

“Okay,” Sam said, deciding he’d read enough, “Steins was once a prosperous rail town town, had some mines, no natural source of water, but once the railroad closed through it, all the inhabitants left on the last train outta town, sometime after World War II.” Sam paused to take a breath before continuing, “The place was left deserted for decades until a couple bought it, back in the 80s and started offering ghost town tours. And they stopped offering those tours after the husband was murdered. So it’s gone back to being just a ghost town.

“But there is literally no water there, so we should probably stop at the next gas station and get some supplies.” Sam licked his lips. “Oh and I have no idea why ghouls would be there,” he added, turning the screen of his cell off.

“Sounds peachy,” Dean replied, his eyes still on the road.

“There should be a gas station in about five miles,” Y/N said as she looked at her map. The chest had been packed up and the little pouches filled with knockout powder had been distributed between the three of them.

Sam thought about why ghouls would be hanging out in a ghost town. A place like Steins wouldn’t have the freshest of corpses and it certainly wouldn’t have many fresh ones coming by, but -

“What if the ghouls had been preying on tourists going to the ghost town!” Sam half-shouted, startling Dean and Y/N.

“What?” Asked Dean.

“The ghouls: the remains in a cemetery like Steins aren’t going to be of the mushy grade. So what if they’re waiting in an isolated place like Steins to get some fresh kills. And in a place like Steins, with its history, it might have been seen as anything could have happened,” Sam explained.

“It wouldn’t make sense for them to just hang around one ghost town,” said Y/N.

“Right, it wouldn’t,” Sam pulled out his cell again and waited to get a signal. “But,” he typed in a search and the results screen told him all he needed to know, “what if you were migrating between a huge belt of ghost towns all the way from the West coast up to Illinois. Picking off batches of tourists as you went.”

Sam held the results so that Y/N could see. “Fuck,” was all Y/N said in answer.

“So this hunter, Harriet, she must have been tracking this family of ghouls?” Dean called back.

“Seems like it,” said Sam.

*

Sam had filled up the Impala and left Dean to collect some bottles of water pay for gas. Not getting straight back into the Impala, Sam discretely looked in on Y/N who was on the back seat. His eyes widened seeing the chest open again and a bottle of water in her right hand. Sam watched as Y/N closed her eyes and the water changed from water to a strange, thick metallic orange looking substance. As Y/N opened her eyes once more, Sam ducked out of view and then pretended to walk up to the Impala again.

“What you got there?” Sam asked opening the right hand passenger door and sliding onto the back seat.

Y/N looked guiltily down at the bottle in her hands. “Um, Elixir of Life,” replied Y/N.

“Why have you got a bottle of Elixir?” Sam asked, unable to mask the concern in his voice. “You’re not -”

“What mixing up more anti-angel crap, no! No.”

“Then why have you got it?”

Sam licked his lips as Y/N pulled the v-neck of her top down and exposed where she had her anti-possession tattoo. The view was nice and he had to restrain himself from burying his face between Y/N’s breasts.

“I needed Elixir to get this tattoo, and I was hoping, y’know, after we help Harriet and we’ve got all of my soul back, that I could get another tattoo. To celebrate.”

“Oh… what were you hoping to get?” Sam felt a tiny bit guilty for assuming the worst.

“Something that covers my entire back,” Y/N put the Elixir in the chest and closed it. “Like a large ouroboros with some orchids or something. I’ve had a lot of rebirths lately. Died a lot. It’s either that or a phoenix, but I’m not sure I want to have a symbol of something that involves flames.”

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this,” Sam replied. He couldn’t imagine getting a tattoo for anything other than a functional purpose.

The driver’s door opened and closed and Sam looked up to see Dean putting a load of shopping bags on the front seat.

“Okay, let’s do this,” Dean grumbled as he turned the ignition on.


	4. Bolts

The sky was beginning to lighten as they reached the outskirts of Steins and found Harriet’s SUV. One of its tyres had been slashed, Dean noted, as he pulled the Impala up beside it. Turning the ignition off, Dean scanned the horizon, looking for any sign of life. But there was nothing.

“We doing this?” Sam called out from behind.

Dean ignored his brother and got out of the car, Sam and Y/N following him. Heading round to the trunk and pulling his jacket close around him against the desert’s cold dawn air, Dean kept his ears pricked for anything that didn’t sound right. He popped the trunk open and started rooting around for guns and machetes.

At first he only got enough weapons out for him and Sam.

“Hey, don’t I get anything?” Y/N cried out in frustration.

“You’re staying with the car, right Sam?” Dean stated looking to his brother.

Sam turned to Y/N. “Dean’s right, you should stay here.”

“No, fuck that shit. I’m going with you.” Dean tensed as Y/N cursed at them. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d sworn at them with that level of agitation in her voice.

Before Dean or Sam could say anything more, Y/N plunged a hand into the trunk and pulled out a loaded sports crossbow and pointed it at Dean and Sam. And then suddenly aimed at a space between the pair of them and fired off a bolt. Dean spun round to see the collapsing body of a man fall to the dirt behind them some thirty feet away.

“What the hell, Y/N!” Shouted Dean.

“It’s a ghoul,” Y/N said as she walked past him and Sam to the fallen body and pulled the crossbow bolt out of ghoul’s forehead.

“And how would you know that?” Dean asked angrily.

“Because I can smell it. Humans do not smell like this thing. Believe me.”

“I think she can come with us, Dean.” Sam said as he smirked at Dean.

“Fine,” Dean said outloud. “We’ll let the newbie have the crossbow and a machete.” He was still worried, but a part of him felt a little impressed that Y/N could handle the crossbow so well. “How’d you know how to fire one of those things anyway?” Dean asked Y/N as she returned to trunk of the Impala. He pulled out two gas masks and tossed one to Sam, before placing another on top of his head.

“My grandfather and I use to have to hunt for a lot of our own alchemy ingredients. Bullets would contaminate a kill too much,” Y/N answered simply as she reached out for a sheathed machete and proceeded to fix it to her belt.

“Oh,” Dean said, surprised. It hadn’t occurred to him before that someone would have to go out and fetch all the materials that Y/N worked with. “Did you gather everything?” Dean asked as he put his M1911A1 handgun in the back of his jeans, then pulled another sheathed machete out the trunk and fixed it to his own belt before finally picking one of the sawn-off shotguns they had had stowed there. He picked up some ammo and checked the shotgun was loaded. Sam did the same.

It took a while for Y/N to reply. “No,” Y/N said finally. “Now are we going to find and help Harriet or what?”

“Fine, fine,” Dean said as he closed the trunk and locked up the Impala. He led the way towards the silhouettes of what was left of the ghost town of Steins.

The three of them kept a steady pace. Dean strained his ears as they approached the crop of remaining buildings. In the dawn light, Dean could see where pools of blood had been soaked into the ground. There was enough for there to have been more than one person.

“Where’d Harriet say she was?” Dean asked Sam as the three of them stopped in the centre of what was left of the town’s buildings.

“The cellar of some old general store,” Sam replied. “There,” he said pointing to a ramshackle wooden building with ‘General Store’ painted in fading, peeling white paint on its elevated front.

“Okay, did she say how many ghouls were left?”

“Two, she was definite there was only two left.”

“Well,” Y/N butted in, “we’ve already taken care of one then. But I dunno… smells like there could be more than that left.”

“Okay,” Dean pulled a torch out of one of his jacket pockets, “Sam, you come with me, Y/N, you keep an eye on the front door.”

Sam and Y/N nodded and they headed towards the store, keeping their steps as quiet as possible.

Dean was pleased when Y/N did as she was told, covering the entrance. For a moment, as Sam and Dean crossed the store’s threshold, the door busted in its frame, it almost felt like old times again. It felt good to be out on a hunt and with Sam, like maybe Sam was beginning to accept their past a little.

There was scrabbling sound from Dean’s left and he turned in time to see a figure with blood pooling out of its mouth rush towards him. Reflexes and years of instinct made Dean aim the sawn-off and then splatter the ghoul’s brains over part of the stool. A shot from behind told Dean that Sam had also taken down another ghoul.

They reached the door that led down to the cellar and found it was smashed open.

“Harriet?” Sam called into the gloom as Dean pointed his flashlight down the aging wooden stairs.

There was no reply. “I’ll go first,” Dean said, putting the empty shotgun down and pulling his handgun out of his jeans.

Sam followed close behind as he walked down the stairs, letting the flashlight’s beam sweep the dirt floored space. Finally, it hit upon the remains of what might have been a man or ghoul at some point and then a woman who had an open wound in her right side and looked like she could be dead. There was a machete in her right hand.

“Sam!” Dean shouted as he rushed over to who he assumed was Harriet and knelt down beside her. “She’s still breathing. We need to close this up,” Dean said, pulling up Harriet’s t-shirt and pointing to the open wound on her side.

“Are you sure she’s not a ghoul?” Sam asked, getting closer, looking at the remains of the man who no longer had a complete head.

“Christ, Sam, I dunno.”

“Y/N!” Sam shouted. A few moments passed and Y/N expertly entered the store and rushed down the stairs.

“What?” Y/N asked, trying to mask her horror at seeing Harriet’s body wounded and bleeding.

“Is Harriet a ghoul?” Sam asked, pointing at the woman they guessed was a ghoul.

Y/N went over to the two of them and leaned in, breathing in the air around them.

“No, she’s very human. That thing over there isn’t, but she’s very human.”

“Good enough for me,” Dean said. “Sam, head back to the car and get the medical kit, we can’t move her like this. Y/N, you keep an eye on the stairs.”

*

When Sam finally returned with their medical kit, Dean couldn’t believe how relieved he felt as Sam set to work on patching Harriet up. He’d bought some bottles of water to and Dean gulped the liquid back. Once Sam was satisfied that Harriet could move, he got Dean to help carry her while Y/N kept an out for more ghouls.

The return trip to Harriet’s SUV and Impala was pretty uneventful and once they were reaching the two vehicles, Harriet appeared to come to.

“Winchesters?” She wheezed as they reached the vehicles.

“Yep,” said Dean. “I’m Dean.”

“I’m Sam, we spoke on the phone,” Sam replied.

“And who’s this?” Harriet asked, referring to Y/N who was leading the way, crossbow poised.

“That’s Y/N,” Dean replied.

Suddenly, Y/N stopped dead in her tracks and spun quickly on the spot to point the crossbow in the direction of Dean, Sam and Harriet.

“DOWN!” Ordered Y/N.

Dean dragged Harriet and Sam to the desert floor, as Y/N loosed a bolt at a ghoul that was coming up from behind. Dean turned in the dirt to see the bolt sticking out of the ghoul’s forehead.

“Please say that’s the last of them,” Y/N said as she walked over and helped everyone up.

“How’d you know that thing was behind us?” Harriet asked. “It hadn’t made a sound.”

“I could smell it,” Y/N replied, clearly not keen to talk about this with a stranger. Dean sensed this and tried to draw Harriet’s attention away from Y/N.

“We’ve killed five of them since we got there, is that all of them?” Dean asked as he got Harriet to her SUV. “And have you got a spare?”

“On the back, and yeah that should be all of them.”

Dean didn’t like the way Harriet kept looking at Y/N as he began sorting out the SUV’s flat tyre.


	5. Convergence

Sam was driving. You were sat in the front with him. Dean was unhelpfully flicking your left ear with his fingers. It was an hour since you’d followed Harriet to a hospital so that she could get herself seen to and then returned to the highway. Dean was starting to grate on you as you tried to navigate towards the soul fragment you’d previously been chasing after, its tendril growing thicker and brighter the closer you got.

Just as you tried to judge whether you needed the next turning on the right, Dean inserted a damp finger into your left ear.

“ENOUGH!” You snap, twisting in your seat to face Dean and glower at him.

The Impala rolls on past the turning.

Dean’s eyes are wide open in surprise. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“Guys, maybe we should find somewhere to stop? I could use some real sleep,” Sam interjects, trying to diffuse the tension.

“Fine,” you say as you turn your attention back to the map on your lap. “There’s a town about ten miles on.”

*

The motel was pleasant enough. Sam couldn’t decide whether to get one Kingsized room or two smaller rooms. Glad to be off the road and feeling better for it, you greedily vote for one Kingsized.

“Yeah, it’s got a nice sofa bed,” says the clerk as he takes a wedge of bills from Sam.

Dean looks at you a smirk on his face. His mind is already wandering.

“Good to know,” Sam replies, his cheeks turning slightly red. Picking up the key, Sam swiftly exits the reception and leads the way to the room. Opening it up, you find it to better than you’d expected, Dean heads back to the Impala to move it outside and bring your bags in.

When your eyes properly settle on the bed, you realise just how tired you are and before anyone can say or do anything, you’ve kicked your boots off and burrowed your way under the sheets. The softness drags you down… down…

“Y/N?” You distantly hear Sam call. But you’re asleep.

*

“She’s doing it again! It’s just so damn cute when she scrunches her face up like that.”

You turn.

“Shit, you’re waking her up, Dean!”

You open your eyes. You’re facing Dean, as you lay on your right shoulder, and Sam is laid out behind you. A strand of sunlight tapers across the bed sheets. And then you see the strands of your soul twisting away from you, one brighter than all the others.

“What time is it?” You ask, not wanting to move.

“Almost noon,” Dean replies, giving you a smile.

Sam shifts behind you and draws you into his long arms. “There’s no rush, y’know,” Sam whispers into your hair.

Dean scoots closer and puts a hand on your left hip. “No rush at all,” he says, squeezing you through your combats that you’d left on.

Without replying, you gently ease your lips onto Dean’s and begin to kiss him deeply, drinking in his sweet lips, while grinding into Sam, who responds in kind. Dean presses himself up against you.

Hands begin to wander and you feel Sam and Dean working together to get your combats and panties off of you. Soon, you’re bottomless and you’ve let Sam sandwich his hard cock between your buttocks and inner thighs, glancing your slit, pressuring your clit, as he gets himself and you off with gentle needy thrusts.

Meanwhile, your right hand has snaked around Dean’s hard dick and you are pumping it up and down while your tongues entwine.

Sam’s hands wander up and under your shirt and tease your breasts out of your bra as he continues to thrust between your squeezing thighs. Sam rubs and twists your nipples, causing you to shudder as you continue to kiss Dean, before deciding to open your shirt and unhook your bra. Somehow friction is maintained as you’re freed from the last of your clothing.

You build up speed in your wrist as your hand squeezes and loosens as it goes up and down Dean’s cock and before Dean can ask for you to go slower, he spills himself in your hand, moaning in his mouth as he does.

“Mmmmmnnnnnnngggghhh,” Dean moans, his face flushed, his eyes flickering in pleasure.

Sam then takes that opportunity to sneak out from between your thighs, pulling you away from Dean’s lips, before rolling on top of you, easily spreading your legs with his own. His right hand reaches down between you and Sam eases his fingers into you.

Rapidly, Sam uses his right middle finger to rigorously circle inside you, brushing your G-spot with each passing. You slick his finger and hand, and as the pressure becomes too much you grind your hips down and orgasm, crying out in pleasure.

“NNNNNNNNNNNuuuuuhhhhhhhhhHHH!”

Satisfied that you’re ready, Sam slicks his cock with your juices and places his hands either side of you as he begins to ease himself into your aching folds. For a moment you remember Dean and turn your head towards him to check he’s okay and you can see that he’s beginning to stroke himself off, already ready again.

Sam starts kissing you, drawing your attention back to him, as he rotates his hips slightly as he gently thrusts into you. Sam’s possessive for a time, but as Dean gets more and more worked up beside the two of you, you gently push Sam’s lips away from you and shift him back into a kneeling position, angling your hips up towards him.

Your left hand reaches out to Dean and you stroke him on his shoulder. He looks to you, his pupils blown and you lick your lips, nodding at him. Dean pulls himself up and leans over you, you open your mouth and he gently pushes his salty, hard dick inside your mouth. Dean shudders at your mouth enclosing him and he begins to gently bob up and down as you suck and tug on him, swirling your tongue over his head each time he almost pulls out of your mouth.

Gasping for air through your nostrils, you feel yourself getting closer as Sam pushes deep into your core and you feel your centre tighten.

“God, you look beautiful,” Sam says, his voice heavy with pleasure. And then you lose yourself, walls clenching and unclenching, as heat floods you and your stomach flips.

You groan in your throat in pleasure and the vibrations are enough for Dean. His sensitivity much increased, Dean pulls out, usings his right hand to finish a few quick strokes as he comes over your breasts.

Sam draws your left leg level with his mouth as he drives himself even deeper into you. He licks your skin and then clamps gently down on the flesh to the side of your calf, sucking and biting, as his thrusts speed up with urgency. The pain is delicious.

“Uuuuuuuuuunnnnnnggggghh!” You cry and send Sam, spiralling, shuddering into you.

“MMMMMMMpppppfffffnnnhhh!” Sam moans as he pumps into you, filling you up.

Chest heaving, eyes half-lidded, Sam pulls himself off of you as Dean gently wipes away his come from your breasts. The three of you lay back on the bed, drinking in air. You quest a hand out to each of them and they clasp you in their own.

For the first time in weeks, things feel good. You know what good feels like again and you don’t want it to go anywhere.

“Sam,” you turn to Sam, “Dean,” you turn to Dean and then return your gaze to the motel room ceiling. “I… love… you.”

The guys squeeze your hands.

“I love you too,” says Sam.

Dean squeezes your hand a bit more tightly. “I love you too.”

Everything’s perfect and as you begin to come down from the sex, you become re-aware of the tendrils of your soul snaking out from chest, waving on breezes unknown to this plain of existence. And then you feel it.

You pull your hands away from Sam and Dean’s, and clutch at your chest as you Exorcist like rise from the mattress, from your hips upwards. Sam and Dean are screaming something at you, but you can’t hear them. There’s a flash of orange-yellow light and you plunge back down to the mattress. Looking at your torso you see that the tendrils of your soul have become one snaking tube, leading away through the motel wall furthest from its entryway.

“What the hell was that?” Sam asks reaching a hand back out to you. “Are you okay?”

“You… saw… that?” You ask, finding it hard to breathe, feeling like your soul is being physically tugged.

“Which part: your Exorcist act or the light?” Dean says, kneeling beside you.

“The light…”

“Y/N, what’s going on?” Sam asks, his voice slightly higher.

“My soul… it’s… what’s left… it’s in one place… need… to… get to it,” breathing was difficult now and so was talking.

Black taints the corners of your vision and you know you’re going to pass out.

“Y/N!” Yells Sam, but his voice is distant, like you’re under a dozen duvets and counting.

Dark.


	6. To The Finish Line

Nothing they had done had brought Y/N back to consciousness. Dean had kept an eye on her while Sam cleaned up and dressed, and then Sam had kept watch while Dean sorted himself out. Sam had tucked Y/N up in the bed and tried to use the motel Wi-Fi to help him find any information on literal soul searching, but all he could pull up on his laptop was advice on what to do when going through a midlife crisis.

The motel room door opened and closed. Sam didn’t look up as Dean came in carrying a bag of sandwiches.

“Anything?” Dean growled, putting the sandwiches on the table beside Sam. He pulled up a seat opposite and sat down.

“What, on a way to track her soul or wake her up? Nothing on either. I think we just need to wait it out.”

“Damnit!” Dean thumped the table with his right fist. Sam looked to the inside of his brother’s right arm, which wasn’t quite covered by his rolled up shirt sleeve, and his eyes rested on the Mark there.

Sam felt Dean’s frustration, because he felt it too. Things had been going their way, but like any time there seems to be a brightness shining in the dark, it looked ready to be snuffed out.

“HuuuuuuhHHHHHHHH!” Y/N gasped from the bed and floundered.

Sam was at Y/N’s side and holding her face in his left hand while his right to check her pulse.

“Y/N, can you hear me?” Sam looked into her open eyes and was glad to see a glimpse of recognition there.

“Y-es… please… water.” Her pulse was better.

Dean leaned in from the other side of the bed and passed Sam a bottle of water. Sam helped Y/N up into a sitting before opening the bottle and helping her take a sip from it.

“Thanks,” Y/N said, pushing the bottle away. “Food please.”

Sam continued checking Y/N over as Dean brought over one of the sandwiches he’d bought. Watching her devour the sandwich and then finish off the bottle of water, Y/N seemed to come back to her usual self. But Sam knew he was frowning - he couldn’t stop. He wanted to keep everything together, he wanted to share.

“What happened?” Sam asked.

“There's only one line now… I don’t feel good.”

Sam swallowed. “Don’t feel good in the ‘you’re fine with kicking puppies way’ or…”

“I feel like part of me is slowly being shredded through the eye of a needle,” Y/N replied.

“Well then we need to get moving,” stated Dean as he began packing up their things.

*

Sam was driving while Dean kept a cold compress on Y/N’s forehead and tried his best to keep her comfortable. The Impala’s windows were down. Y/N couldn’t remember the last time she’d been sick, but she was burning a fever now.

Nervous glances in the rearview mirror did not make Sam feel better. It had been more than three hours since they’d passed through Phoenix. Y/N’s directions had had them passing the state line from Arizona into Nevada and generally heading in the direction of Las Vegas. Adrenaline and dread kept his eyes open as they tore up the tarmac as fast as they could without being pulled over.

His mind kept flashing back to watching her lay in bed as they detoxed her. The way she’d looked so broken. And Sam felt his anger rising as he bitterly remembered that it had taken Crowley, a demon, for them to learn the truth of what was really going on with Y/N. He’d been such a useless boyfriend. ‘I’m just one fuck up after the other,’ Sam thought as he kept the Impala on the path set by Y/N.

“Hey, Sam,” Dean said, breaking the not-quite-silence of the Impala.

The sky was going pink as evening chased them. Sam didn’t reply.

“Sam?”

“What?”

“We need more water. Pull-up at the next gas station.”

They went back to driving in silence. It was another twenty miles before they stopped at a gas station. As soon as the Impala stopped moving, Y/N jumped out of the car and ran for the restroom.

Sam waited outside as Y/N puked up what little was in her stomach. Grimacing at each audible heave, cough and splutter. He had their last bottle of water in hand, ready to hand over. When the noises stopped, Sam thought Y/N would be about in a minute. But then there were no more noises. Not even the flush going.

“She still in there?” Dean said, walking up beside Sam.

“Yes, but it’s gone quiet.” Sam couldn’t hide the worry in his voice.

“Too quiet then… Do you wanna go in there or shall I?”

“I’ll go.” Sam knocked on the door to the restrooms, but heard no answer. He teased the door open.

“Y/N?” Called Sam.

There was no reply. He fully opened the door and looked inside to see Y/N’s feet poking out from one stall. There was an empty paper packet on the floor beside her. She’d taken something.

“Dean!” Sam yelled as he rushed to Y/N’s prone form. He didn’t think anything of the strange orange tint that Y/N’s skin had taken on. He reached out to touch her and then...

It felt like he was pulled from his navel, engulfed in an orange-golden light, but was completely frozen, as his surroundings disappeared, to be replaced by the exterior of the gas station, and then his paralysed form built up speed as it sped through the barren landscape, following the highway for a time before turning off and following a near dirt road into the alien Nevada landscape.

A forsaken town sign flashed past him. ‘Nelson’ it read. Now he was slowing down, down, down… His form, or whatever it was passing through the gates of an old mine. And he could hear voices. Angry voices, men, and -

He felt pain on his right cheek. “SAM!” Shouted Dean.

Sam’s eyes opened. He was laid out on the restroom floor. Y/N was shivering beside him.

“What the hell just happened?” Dean asked, picking Y/N up and cradling her in his arms.

Sam pushed himself off the floor and went to wash his hands. “We saw… I saw…”

“Where the rest of my soul is,” Y/N half-whispered against Dean’s shirt.

Drying his hands, Sam’s eyes fell upon the empty paper packet. He picked it up.

“What was this?” Sam asked. Dean’s eyes widened at the bag and he looked between it and Y/N in his arms.

“Something to finally see where it was… In case… something happened to me before we got to it. It wouldn’t have… worked… before when my soul was all over the place.”

Dean started walking towards the restroom exit, carrying Y/N in his arms.

*

The tourists were gone for the day as they pulled up in the ghost town of Nelson. There’d once been a successful mine there, but those days were long gone. Now it was just falling down shacks, the debris of non-slots oriented tourists, and an eerie stillness.

Y/N was asleep on the back seat of the Impala. The sky was turning from an intense blue to blackness, stars gradually twinkling into view.

Dean was rummaging in the trunk while Sam kept lookout. The place was a ghost town, and the hairs were standing up on the back of Sam’s neck. Someone had the rest of Y/N’s soul, the voices had shown him that much.

Dean handed Sam a M1911A1 and kept hold of his own while stashing the demon knife in his jacket.

“You think demons have her soul?” Sam asked.

“She tangled with a bunch in Vegas and it’s awfully suspect that we’re here in Nelson, some forty odd miles down from the Strip.” Dean closed the trunk and tossed Sam a flask of Holy Water and a torch.

Sam had to agree, as he led the way through the town, towards the mine entrance he’d seen. The place was in a better state than what they’d found in Steins, but not by much.

It wasn’t long before they found the busted up entrance to the mine.

“After you,” Dean said.

The space was cramped, but at least the beams looked solid enough. Still he didn’t fancy falling head first into one, say, and having tonnes of rock and earth crash down on him. They followed wagon tracks down, further into the rock. And then they saw a light ahead, cast from camping lanterns, in what looked like a carved out space for a simple, old, minings elevator that went up and down a shaft. The cavern housed the top of the shaft.

“Are you sure she’ll come?” Sam recognised the voice from whatever he’d experienced back in the restroom.

Dean held Sam back, and Sam turned off his torch. They could see two men standing in the cavernous space, a large glass jar behind them and an orange-yellow glowing orb inside it.

“Why’s Y/N’s soul a different colour?” Dean whispered. “I thought souls were blue.”

“I’m not sure. Her Philosopher’s Stone is that kind of colour though,” Sam whispered back. “Anyway…”

“Right…”

Dean stepped into the light. “Gentlemen: do you mind if I have a word?”

Sam held back waiting for the figures to be completely distracted before getting involved. And as the figures got closer to Dean, Sam finally smelt a wave of sulphur. They were demons.

Dean would have smelt them by this point to and as Sam sprinted out from the shadows, Dean began to dance with the demons. Sam flanked the pair and chucked Holy Water from them. There was fizzling and crackling sound as Dean ran the blade into the demon nearest him.

“AAAANnnnnhhh!” Screamed the demon nearest Sam, his eyes flashing black, but as his attention turned to Sam, he didn’t see the blade stab him in the back and shift his being from this plain.

“Hey,” Y/N’s voice called out to them. “You’re all having fun without me… that’s not fair.” She was standing in the entrance to the cavern.

“No!” Sam reflexively screamed as another demon, broke away from the shadows and stabbed Y/N from behind. Sam ran towards Y/N as the demon pulled its blade out of her and she began to fall.

“That was for Dee,” the demon said, its voice hard and cold.

Y/N was on her knees. Sam didn’t remember catching the demon blade, but as he sunk into the demon, he felt good.

“You both get… to… have… all of… the fun,” Y/N wheezed as she climbed to her feet.

Sam put an arm around Y/N and pulled her close, burying his nose in her hair.

And then Dean was beside them with the jar. “Shall we?”

Y/N took the jar and pulled out its stopper.


	7. Will She?

Dean’s stomach was tense as he drove the Impala towards Henderson, rather than Vegas, the plan being to book another motel room and get some R’n’R and hopefully avoid any more of Dee’s half-assed followers. He was tense, because Y/N had hardly said a word since she’d gotten her soul back. Not to Sammy, not to him.

He was afraid. Afraid that now Y/N had her soul back that she didn’t love him anymore. That her affections had been purely based on lust. She wasn’t even hugging Sam, who was sat on the backseat with her.

Night was here and finally Dean pulled the Impala into the parking lot of the first place to say it had vacancies and look a little respectable. Sam went to book the room while Dean and Y/N waited in the car.

“Dean?” Y/N whispered.

“Yeah?” Dean replied softly, scooting round to look at Y/N over the back of the front seat.

She was looking at him with big eyes, her pupils wide. “Do you love me?”

Butterflies rose in Dean’s stomach. “Yes.”

“And Sam?”

For a moment Dean didn’t think he could reply on behalf of his brother, but then he flashed back to the way he’d run towards Y/N in the mine. It seemed pretty obvious.

“And Sam.”

Y/N bit her lower lip a little and then asked, “Even after all the shit I’ve put the two of you through?”

“Especially after all of the shit you’ve put us through.”

And the smile Dean saw - that smile - it was like a tiny slice of heaven had fallen into the backseat of his car.

“I miss something?” Sam asked as he opened a door for Y/N and rattle the room keys at Dean.

Dean got out of the car, popped the trunk open. Finding their bags, he helped carry their duffels to the room while Y/N carried her chest. Sam led the way.

“I wanna go to a bar.” Y/N said as they finished putting their things in their room.

“I dunno-” Sam started.

“Come on, Sammy! Y/N has her soul back, we vanquished some demons and I have not had a beer in over 800 miles,” Dean interjected, raising his hands in the air in exasperation.

“Fine. But Y/N’s buying them.”

“Sure, just let me get changed a moment. Also, we have to head somewhere else first…” Before Y/N allowed herself to be questioned further, she took her bag and went into the bathroom.

Dean checked his cell for messages and Sam put a brush through his hair as they waited. A few minutes later, Y/N emerged in a fresh pair of combats and an open-back top that only just covered her front. She flung her bag down beside her chest, picked up a small shoulder bag and then opened the chest.

“What’s that?” Dean asked, his voice showing his worry as a glass bottle filled with a thick orange liquid appeared in Y/N’s hand.

“Just some Elixir. There’s a nice tattoo parlour around the corner.”

“Tattoo parlour?”

“Yeah, Y/N wanted to get a tattoo,” Sam said, walking over to Y/N and drawing her into a hug.

*

The buzzing of the tattoo machine as the black ink, mixed with Elixir, scratched its way into Y/N’s skin was pervasive. Dean was sat beside Sam as they watched Y/N from the front as she had an ouroborus drawn into her skin. A snake eating its own tail.

“You knew about this?” Dean whispered to Sam after they’d been there for a quarter of an hour.

“Yeah, she’d been planning it, as a celebration for getting her soul back,” Sam answered in a whisper.

“She couldn’t just have a couple of beers?”

“It’s no bigger than the anti-possession tattoo, so it shouldn’t take more than another twenty minutes. Tops,” Y/N called to Dean and stuck her tongue out at him before pulling it back inside her mouth. Dean licked his lips.

“Did you just stick your tongue out at me?”

“And, if I did?”

“Don’t worry…” Dean licked his lips, slowly.

“Children, please,” moaned the tattoo artist as he continued his work, “I don’t know what the three of you have got going on, but you’re too distracting. Leave us be and head next door.”

Sam got up and Dean followed. “You cool with that?” Sam asked.

“Sure, I’ll see you in a bit.”

Dean followed Sam out of the parlour and to the bar next door.

Walking into the bar, Dean couldn’t help wondering if it was a bit risky for business being a parlour next to a place that funnelled out drunk people with a host of bad ideas. But he didn’t care as he got into earshot of the barman and asked for a bottle of beer for himself and Sam.

“So,” Sam began after his first sip, “Now that we’ve managed to complete one item on our to-do list…”

“Look, I don’t want to worry about the Blade, Abaddon, Metraon or any related messes. We have succeeded in one minor victory today, that pile of bullcrap is for tomorrow.” Dean took a swig of his beer. “Like seriously, we need to just have some R’n’R.”

“Fine,” Sam replied. Dean saw a flash of annoyance and then a smile formed on his brother’s lips. “Hey, do you think she knows that she snores a little in her sleep? Sometimes?”

“Whoa, I wasn’t imaging that?”

“Yeah, she does. The number of times I’ve had to roll her onto her side to get her to stop…” Sam took a swig of his beer.

Dean liked this, talking about the small things. It made the Mark easier to ignore. And Sam was talking to him - really talking to him, like he hadn’t in months. He felt good.

“Well, gentlemen, what do you think?” Y/N’s voice piped up from behind them and Dean turned on his stool to see Y/N’s back to him, the ouroboros circling a patch of skin in the middle of her upper back. The black ink looked orange, when the light caught it in just the right way.

“It looks amazing, like you,” Sam schmoozed before stepping off of his stool and pulling Y/N into a hug,

“Hey,” Dean said, feeling left out.

“Come on then,” Y/N said, half mockingly an arm raised towards him.

Dean slid off his stool and joined the threeway hug, doing his best to partially crush Y/N between him and Sam.

“I love you guys.”

“We both do,” Sam replied.

Dean was about to add something when his cell began to buzz in his pocket. He pulled away from the group hug and retrieved the cell from one his jean pockets.

It was a text message from Harriet.

**Harriet: What is she?**

Dean’s bottom lip twitched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of this part. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. Don't worry, there's still more to come. In the meantime, feel free to leave comments and kudos and don't forget that you can always check in with me at [Dreams from the Bunker](http://dreamsfromthebunker.tumblr.com).


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